


Silent Elegy

by chrystening



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death in the Family, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, There's an argument, as he does, bran tells people going through trauma, season 7 and 8 spoilers, triggering shit, viserion is your kid too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrystening/pseuds/chrystening
Summary: There's only so long you can suffer in silence.Daenerys Targaryen / Female Reader.





	Silent Elegy

**Author's Note:**

> this was a [REDACTED] :^)
> 
> hm, i felt a bit off my game on this
> 
> -
> 
> Some of y'all bout to be real mad at me. But it must be said.
> 
> Daenerys's arc was utterly shat on this season

You skirted through the corridors of Dragonstone. Its cold, hard floors echoed under the urgency of your heel.

_Not in her quarters–_

_not in the the throne room–_

_not with any of her advisors, not even Missandei–_

Your brow furrowed slightly.

In your search for Daenerys, you had come across everyone despite the queen herself… and only a single other person.

Your stomach churned with unease. You knew you were correct, but did you dare think it?

You all but jumped down the steps of Dragonstone, briny air hitting your nose. In your hurry, you stumbled into the path of three Dothraki screamers, landing against one’s bronzed chest. Dany’s khalasar.

You muttered an apology in the common tongue. He looked irritated for a second, before vague recognizance of who you were hit their eyes. Few were spared from the wrath of the Dothraki under their khaleesi’s rule – Daenerys made sure early on that you were one of them.

 _“Finne ajjin khaleesi?”_ you spoke.

The Dothraki clucked his tongue, before returning a curt reply. You jaw tensed.

You didn’t know enough Dothraki to be fluent, but you could recognize a few words: Cave. Foreigner. _Alone._

You froze, letting them brush past you. You continued, more dread in your step.

When you arrived at the mouth of the cave, Daenerys was leaving. You felt the acidic burn of jealousy sear its way through your veins. At her side, and the possessor of her attention, was Jon Snow. They conversed fluidly.

Daenerys didn’t look hostile. She was courteous, even if her eyes lacked the rosiness you had see when _you_ spoke to her but still – you noted the small breadth of space between them both as they strode.

 _But,_ **_still!_ **

Oblivious to your internal screaming, Daenerys finally saw you. Her face softened, and the ghost of a smile graced her face as she strode more quickly towards you. Jon was left in her wake as she came closer. Your heart twinged with delight. You wished you could muster up any sorts of smile in return, but your spirits were too low.

“There you are. I haven’t seen you all day,” she said, lines of pleasure at her eyes.

 _That’s my line,_ you thought hopelessly.

You smiled weakly in response.

“Well… here I am,” you said lamely. You inwardly cringed at the pathetic chuckle you made in order to seem unaffected.

Daenerys tilted her head to the side in confusion. Her smile was withstanding, though, telling you that she was oblivious to the reason behind your odd behavior.

You heard a low clearing of the throat. Right behind Dany was Jon, suddenly.

“Your Grace,” he began, looking to Daenerys, who looked back. “If we could continue our conversation?” Daenerys’s eyes sobered with recognition. _What conversation?_ You desperately thought. _Why can’t you just say it in front of me?_ Daenerys nodded after a pause. She looked at you.

You swallowed drily. You couldn’t burden her. Not with all that was on her plate.

She was staging an _invasion,_ spearheading an entire war… it wouldn’t have surprised anyone that you nodded along, shifting out the way to let Daenerys pass.

She gave you a passing glance, smiling in apology, before she strode off without another word. The murmur of their voices was lost in the washing of the waves. The farther they got, the more they shrank in your view.

Suddenly, you felt forgotten.

Suddenly, you felt small.

-

 _Whenever you closed your eyes, you could see Viserion. You could see him soaring through a cold, blue-gray sky, and you could the large spear of ice that ripped his throat open. Pools and pools of blood rained down. It was more blood than you’d ever seen pour out of_ **_anything._ **

_Oddly enough, you could also see yourself. Your face was frozen in terror, your mouth agape but no scream spilling out. You were in so much disbelief and shock that you couldn’t make a sound. All that moved of you were your eyes, trailing after Viserion’s plummeting figure. His wings failed to catch the wind, weakly beating like the wings of an angel cast out of heaven._

_Viserion landed in a lake frozen over by winter, skidding and cleaving through ice until the friction slowed him to a stop. He stopped… and then he sank._

-

Your eyes shot open.

Feeling alone… It was perhaps bearable back on Dragonstone. Just almost _bearable._

You felt yourself grasping at the dregs of your sanity.

Now, it was _not_ – not after everything that had happened.

“Without him, my lady, you would not be alive,” Brienne spoke. The room was tensely silent besides the crackle of fire. And of course, besides the voices of people talking. Talking, _talking._ So much talking, _politicking._

Who _cared?_ Who could care when… You fingers found their way to the three-headed dragon pin on your breast. Three dragons on her banner, yet one gone. You shook silently with grief where you sat.

 _Viserion._ That was his name, but to you he was _Prumia_ – heart. Heart, because he was so loving and so affectionate, compared to his brothers. You could remember the first time he dipped his head by you, allowing you to climb atop his scales. Riding him was as natural as walking. You had always felt like a second mother to Daenerys’s children but that… that was when you _knew_ you were.

Your eyes rose from your seat amongst the Northernmen. You were in Targaryen black, red flint-like jewels sown in the hems – and yet you were not up there, not with Daenerys. Not by her side. Instead here you were beside Bran, a Stark. You cast a passing glance at him. He was seated, as he had no other alternative. He was composed. _If not a little empty,_ you thought, curiously. You looked up at Daenerys, who felt so far away.

Your eyes slid from Daenerys’s strong, graceful figure to the brooding one beside her. Your mind spiraled, swam with despair.

“What does the Warden of the North say about it?” You saw her look to Jon, searching for his answer. _Trusting_ his judgement.

You hated him. Well, of course you didn’t – you found it hard to truly hate anyone – but you wished you did.

You bowed your head, solemnity creasing your face.

If _Jon_ was to say Daenerys pardon Jaime, then the kingslayer was to be pardoned.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Jaime replied, bowing his head.

Everyone in the Great Hall stood, now that the nobility were excusing themselves.

“He’s with him, you know,” you heard. It was low and quiet, so no one could’ve but you could’ve heard. Your head snapped to the boy beside you, the only one who wasn’t standing.

Bran stared not at you, but far off, like he was seeing something no one else was. _He seems... to do that._ You made to disregard him but your heart quickened at his next words, so quick and rapid it was painful.

Bran turned to you calmly. His brown eyes, dark and as lifeless as coal, bore hollowly into yours.

“Viserion.” At the name, your blood ran cold. “He’s with him – the Night King.”

It felt like your throat closed, because suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

You whipped your head towards Dany, eyes wide with fear and terror, looking to her as if she had any idea of the news you had just received. Daenerys’s eyes flickered to you. Her expression morphed from confusion to controlled distress, alarmed at the utter horror on your face. Her visage swam as your eyes washed over with stinging tears.

Your _Prumia,_ now an living-dead slave… Your _Prumia,_ now your enemy...

Even if he was lying, even if Viserion wasn’t the pawn of humanity’s worst enemy, the wound was still fresh. And worst of all, you were alone in knowing it. Daenerys was all but gone to you, dancing around Westeros to secure her seat to rule. You were alone, full of grief and no one to share it with. It was too much. _You had to leave._

Before you had known it, you were clipping through shoulders, feet speeding to the nearest exit. The gruff noises of indignation from Northernmen were all you left in your wake.

Daenerys watched you go, about to take a running step towards the door before she managed to contain herself into a hurried stride.

 _I can’t handle this_ – _I can’t_ **_handle this_ ** **–**

Outside, you were running blind, narrowly brushing past corners. You were atop the battlements of Winterfell when you heard your name called out.

_“Wait!”_

Your eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly, the floor turned to butter and your legs flew out from under you. Your eyes opened quick enough to see the snowy ground come up to meet you. Your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the impact – but there was none. You registered thin arms wrapped around your waist holding you up.

You tried to turn your head, but it was hard to with Daenerys’s face in the way.

“Are you okay?” Daenerys asked incredulously.

You gathered your bearings and shrugged her off. She fidgeted at your cold shoulder.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. You turned away and tried to shield your face from her view. If you met her eye, you’d break.

“You’re not,” she pressed, stepping closer.

You didn’t respond, crossing your arms and stepping away.

Daenerys called out your name, distraught. When you didn’t turn around, she called it again, her voice hard.

You stopped in your tracks, before reluctantly turning.You still didn’t raise your eyes.

“Why are you…” she said, dumbfounded. She eliminated the distance between you both. She tried to compose herself, tempering her frustration. “You’ve been… distant… to me,” she finished, matter-of-fact. You balked at her in disbelief. Seeing her oblivious face brought out the worst in you.

 _“I’ve_ been distant lately?” you erupted. You couldn’t contain it. _“Me?”_

Daenerys flinched at your raised voice, before standing a bit straighter. “You’ve been avoiding ever since we got to Winterfell.” Her voice was measured and composed, but with an icy bite. Icy. Cold. That’s what she was all the time, wasn’t it…? Or how she wanted to appear.

 _But not with me. Never with me,_ you thought.

Your lips tightened bitterly. Somewhere inside you, you knew you were being cruel, utterly unlike yourself. “I’m surprised you cared enough to notice.” As a wind swept by, you bid yourself not to shiver. The cold of the north was unrelenting, but you refused to show weakness.

Daenerys bristled. “What does that mean?” she asked, exasperated.

There it was. You could see it on her face – she was disengaging from you, as she had been for the past few months.

Something in you flared.

“It means you can see to Jon if it’s company you desire,” you gritted.

Daenerys was taken aback. She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose it’s my fault for _daring_ to care–”

“Well, you didn’t _care_ to be with me before!” you cried. “You were just _fine_ before. You were fine for _months._ ”

You could see on her face that she finallyrealized what this was all about. She looked at you indignantly, her voice rising as well. “I apologize that I was too occupied organizing an _army_ to coddle you.”

Suddenly you felt like a child. Coddling?

Your eyes grew as cold and hard as coal. “And _I_ apologize for being the only one of us who bothered to grieve for Viserion.” As soon as you said that, you could feel the pain you inflicted, and it hurt you as well. Her face faltered, hurt flashing across her features. Suddenly it was her who looked like a child.

“How could… how could _you say that?”_ She stepped forward, fuming. “That’s not true–”

“Isn’t it?” you cried. You wrapped your arms around yourself. “You didn’t stop for a second and I grieved _alone_ . I grieved _alone_ because you were...” You sighed, fatigue showing in your visage. Your voice pitched. “Occupied.”

Daenerys was crestfallen.

“Occupied with trying to rule Westeros,” you croaked. Then in a whisper, “Occupied with Jon.” Daenerys looked guilty. Even if nothing had happened, she had caused you such turmoil.

“I love you.” You didn’t look up until she grabbed your hands. “I love _you,"_ Daenerys asserted.

She was deathly serious, her eyes bidding for you to understand. _Believe me,_ they said. Of course, you did. You always had.

“I know.” Your body shuddered, tears starting to sting as you babbled. All your vitriol dissipated. “I just didn’t want to worry you, you’ve been so busy–  and now Viserion is with the Night King– And I was just going to handle it by myself– but… it’s... been hard.” Daenerys’s eyes widened with horror as her hands brought you closer. “It’s been _so hard,”_ you whimpered. Once Dany’s gloved hands brushed against your cheek, you felt the dam inside you burst.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you could hear that she meant it. “I’m so, so sorry,” Daenerys croaked. Her eyes were wet.

The clammer of smithing and the bustle of people down below, preparing for the long night, caught your ear. You nudged Daenerys away from clear sight. No one could see her like this. You felt shame. Daenerys wasn’t _allowed_ to be vulnerable.

“It’s fine,” you breathed.

“No, it’s not,” Daenerys whispered in the embrace. “It’s not fine.”

“You’re trying to reclaim a _throne,"_ you said softly. “You’re trying to re-establish a _dynasty.”_

“And you’ll be by my side when I do,” she declared. She swiped at her eyes, recollecting herself.

You smiled even with wet cheeks. “I envy you. You’re always strong.”

Daenerys took a moment to look at you, truly look at you. She looked at you in disbelief. Daenerys played at being strong.

 _But you…_ she thought.

She clasped your hands, warming them instantly. “You are true strength. _My_ true strength.”

She embraced you again, holding you close. It was cold out here. But you still didn’t want to move. The fur of her coat caressed you and her hair tickled you. It was hard to want to move while listening to the steady pat of her pulse and smelling the scent you had come to associate with _home._

“He’s with him, Dany,” you muttered, pain twinging your chest.

Daenerys shushed into your ear, something she knew would calm you. And even though it couldn’t take you away from reality, it did calm you.

You blinked away the bleariness of your eyes, looking to the pale blue of Winterfell’s sky. In the distance, Rhaegal and Drogon seemed to float on the winds. You closed your eyes, but your heart still hurt. You smiled weakly into her skin.

It hurt, but it held a duller ache and you were here, in her arms.

It hurt, but it felt like healing.

**Author's Note:**

> "here's my tumblr so you can learn more and about me and my writing": chrystening.tumblr.com


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